Nocturne
by ShreddingRibbons
Summary: "Now night perfumes lie upon the air, As rests the blossom on the loaded bough; And each deep-drawn breath is redolent, Of all the folded flowers' mingled scent, That rises in confused rapture now" -Philip Larkin


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, I own stuff, but not this. Yeah.

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Somewhere, on the third story of an unremarkable apartment building, a long-limbed girl with flat feet and pink hair fought to pretend that she was still asleep.

Amu ran her tongue over her top teeth, trying to quell a bad case of cotton mouth as she struggled to sit up, her head heavy with sleep and the left over pounding of the music in club the night before. What time was it?

The girl let out a yawn as she got up out of bed, frowning when she noticed she was still attired in the same clothing she had been flaunting the night before. She lifted her top by the hem and sniffed. Stale sweat and day-old drug store perfume. Yum. She really needed to hose off.

Peeling herself out of her less-than-fresh garments Amu jumped in the shower, cursing loudly when the water went cold before hot. Her cell phone rang-had she really slept with it in her pants pocket?-while she was showering, Aretha Franklin belting it out about r-e-s-p-e-c-t while Amu worked what she was trying to believe _wasn't _gum out of her hair. The warm water, along with gardenia shampoo and lavender body scrub, managed to wash away most of the grossness the young woman had managed to accumulate over the past 24 hours and Amu climbed back out feeling reborn, or at least slightly less smelly. Armed with a brush, blow dryer, and curling iron, the pinkette attacked her hair.

Ten minutes and a wardrobe change later, Amu was securing her short, haphazardly shorn hair with a black banana clip, listening for the ding that signaled that the toaster was done torturing her breakfast. At half-past eight the damn machine finally spit it out and the pink-haired girl was allowed to completely _smother _her toast in Nutella, settling with a heavy _wump! _on the couch in her living room. Curling her toes in the surprising plush yet unfortunately colored carpet of her apartment (avocado was _such _a popular color in the 70's), Amu clicked on a news story about a Siberian husky who found a neighbor child trapped inside a shed and began to let the events of last night seep back into her short-term memory.

It wasn't that Amu was at all embarrassed of anything she did (_ever), _but analyzing events that make you fall asleep in your clothes with gum in your hair and makeup caked on your face can distract the mind from current obligations, like waking up, for example. Amu just thanked god that it was a Saturday. The pinkette happened to work at a trendy shop called _Absinthe _down on Monroe. You wouldn't pin Natasha, Amu's business partner and long-time friend, for the religious type. Usually shops aren't open because people go to church on Sundays, but since Natasha was Jewish, she went to temple on Saturdays. Being lazy as well as the co-owner of _Absinthe, _Amu had decided that instead of opening the shop like any other day and manning it herself she would open it at noon until five and then crawl back home to nap like the lump she was.

Of course, Amu also got off on Wednesdays (hump days, as she often crooned to Natasha) and a high school girl named Frieda came and helped 'Tasha out while Amu did what she wanted, which usually included gallivanting about San Francisco or sleeping. Saturday was 'Tasha's official day off, but she sometimes took off a day to visit her folks in Castro Valley, at which time Frieda came and helped as well. In fact, now that Amu thought about it, Frieda had been coming by more and more just to help out. The pinkette couldn't blame her. _Absinthe _had a really chill, homey feel to it. A rickety-looking, cabaret-esque metal spiral staircase twisted up from the ground in the middle of the store and lead up to the next level. Customers loved to climb up it so much that Amu and 'Tasha had had to have a guy come in and make sure it was safe. He advised them to put in new supports, which they did, and later converted the upper level into what they called _The Loft_, which was where they put their trendiest (and most expensive) clothing out on display. Amu had loved the idea from the start, but was only assured that it had been a good one when she overheard a college student tell her friend how she had to go up to _The Loft _in _Absinthe _on Monroe.

Amu shook her head. No. She had to think about last night. She had…what had she done? She had gone to the _Black Butterfly, _a bar that turned into a club on Fridays and the weekend, to celebrate her closest friend Nagehiko's 23rd birthday. And then…she had danced her ass off. And tripped and fell on the floor of the supply closet. And gotten very drunk. _But not as drunk as Nage, _she thought in amusement, remembering the sight of him downing every drink she pushed at him. Hilarious as the image of Nagehiko was, Amu struggled to remember how she had gotten the weird bruise she found on her shoulder while she was in the shower. She hoped to god it wasn't a hicky and that she hadn't collected any unneeded romantic splurges the night before that would be awkward the day after.

Shaking herself from her revelries, Amu scarfed down the rest of her breakfast, washed it down with a glass of orange juice, clicked off the TV (which was now doing a special on a day in the life of an African elephant), and ducked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and floss for the second time that day.

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Amu sloshed citrus-flavored Listerine around in her mouth as she half-pounded half-jogged down the black metal stairs that sloped down the side of her apartment building, gargling and spitting it out into the alleyway like she did everyday when she got to the second level. Her building was small, only four stories, and it fit narrowly in between an indoor/outdoor grocery store and the other building on its right. Feeling close to a million bucks as Amu finished pulling on her black leather jacket she stepped onto the sidewalk and greeted the wonderful chill of summer in San Fran, running her tongue over her teeth compulsively to feel how clean and plaque-free they were.

Feeling light-spirited and strangely mature, Amu practically skipped through the entrance of the _Black Butterfly, _which happened to be the bar right next to her apartment building on the right and run by her friend Kukai.

With practiced stealth the pinkette carefully poked her head through the door to see if the cost was clear. Quietly, quietly, she crept inside, careful not to let her Converses scuff on the worn wood flooring of the old-yet-lively-hearted bar. As far as she could see there was nothing to worry about, and Amu let out the breath she was holding in a silent relief.

"Avoiding someone?" The pinkette launched into the air and let out a surprised gasp/scream combo, hand flying to her heart like a woman from a 30's movie as she turned around to face who she already knew was behind her.

"Kairi! You scared the living sh-"

"Don't swear."

"-out of me. Are you trying to kill me or is it just me?"

"It's just you." He replied, smoothing his way over to the bar like the oily roach he was. _Well, _Amy thought, _he's not _actually_ an oily roach, but he's being one right now._

"So, you didn't answer my question."

"What question?" Amu growled as she sat on one of the barstools, still trying to calm her poor heart after the nasty scare Kairi gave her.

"Who are you avoiding?" Amu gave the bespectacled twenty-something jerkface the ugliest look she could muster.

"Who do you think?" she gritted out, picking at a deep scratch in the wood that had been lacquered over when Kukai'd had the bar redone.

"Well you _should _be avoiding me. After how intoxicated you and Rima got him last night he can hardly stand, let alone work. Therefore, in exchange, _you _have to do all the work. Kami only knows when he'll finally take a shower, eat something to ebb that damn hangover, and find his damn car keys."

"I didn't get him emaciated."

Kairi slapped his palm to his face.

"Amu, if you got Kukai _emaciated_ we would have a very different problem on our hands. Now go down to the liquor store and put in this order. The bar has to be restocked."

Kairi liked to act like he was really the owner of the _Black Butterfly, _even though he really wasn't. Kairi was actually younger than Amu, and was a lawyer, not a barkeep. The glasses-wearing prosecutor just liked to be in charge. Kukai and Kairi hadn't even been relatively close until recently, and already Kairi was acting like he was the manager. Amu frowned at him and crossed her arms.

"Why do I have to go all the way down there? Why can't we just call in the order? Why can't _you _just call in the order?" Amu often got roped into doing odd-jobs for Kukai and the bar. She pretended like she minded, but Amu could almost never turn down an errand if it meant helping out her friends. Sadly, she was just that type of sweet, gullible person.

"Because there's stuff that needs to be signed." Amu got up off the barstool and made herself a glass of Sprite.

"Well it's not like _I _can sign anything, _I _don't own the bar."

"_You," _started Kairi, mimicking her way of talking, "don't have to do anything. I have all the signed papers right here. _You _just have to deliver them. Now fetch."

"Why the hell can't you do it?" The carnation-haired girl hissed, selecting a lime green bendy straw from a mirrored cabinet behind the bar.

Kairi stood and checked his Rolex. "_I _have to call Kukai and watch the bar while you're gone. And then I have a meeting with a client." Fixing his hair and straightening his impressive red and black business suit he nodded to her with an annoying authority. "Have fun."

"Goodbye, _persecutor._" Amu hissed, snatching the signed order forms Kairi held out to her. Without another word or another glance, Amu flounced out into the street.

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Public buses in San Francisco were almost unimaginably gross, Amu was in good shape and good spirits, and the liquor store wasn't ludicrously far away, so Amu decided to walk. Besides, it was obvious that the longer Amu took the more pissed off Kairi would get, another upside to a good stroll through the city.

Amu wandered past restaurants, including a favorite that made outrageously good ramen with tripe, which looked and whose origins were totally gross but tasted so horrifyingly good. The pink-haired girl walked past fountains and a farmer's market and a taco-mobile and children jumping double-dutch on the side walk and remembered exactly why she'd moved here. She walked past a shop selling beautiful saris and she was tempted to go in if only to buy some incense and ogle at the vibrant colors and exquisite patterning, but she didn't want to get Kairi _too _pissed, so she hurried on.

The guy at the drug store was surprisingly nice. She didn't know why, but she figured he would be creepy. He was also young, maybe even as young as her, which surprised her, and kind of adorable. He smiled good-naturedly at her as he took the papers from her at copied the order down onto forms he had behind the desk, which he signed. He joked with her, saying "I take it you're not named Kukai Souma?" Amu grinned and shook her head.

"No, he's a friend of mine. I play errand girl for him sometimes."

The boy nodded.

"Well you're all set."

"Great." said Amu, making her way towards the door, "Thanks. See you later."

"Have a nice day!" he said, the response sounding very mechanical and practiced.

"You too!" she called, swinging out the door, feeling like a free woman (essentially.)

Amu decided to get back to the _Black Butterfly _a different, shorter way. Of course, Amu was a very distracted person, so she ended up buying a donut and weaving through a favorite square with a fountain that she liked. That was when she heard the music.

Like a moth drawn to a flame the pinkette, delicious Boston cream-filled pastry momentarily forgotten, weaved through a small group of teens flaunting the goth fashion loitering on a bench and past a long-haired guy with a battered-looking guitar case who smelled acutely of pot and not-showering, drifting towards the sound.

Amu came to the end of the metaphorical string when she arrived at the unremarkable and generic-looking white marble fountain in the middle of the square. The ledge was dotted with the unmistakable black-and-white spots of bird-primarily pigeon-poop, discouraging anyone who would dare sit down. But that wasn't what she was looking at. She was looking at _him._

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So, shyah, I totally don't know where on God's green Earth I'm going with this, but I usually don't, so that's ok. I promise there will be more chapters, though I cannot extend that promise to whether they'll be good or not. I haven't read Shugo Chara for a looong time, so Amu and Ikuto and the gang may be obnoxiously OOC and I am totally oblivious to it. I've been wanting to write an Amuto fanfic for a long time, so I'm kind of proud that I've gotten to it. Either way, you are all lovely people with a lot of free time. Please tell me what you think and whether it sucks or not. Constructive criticism, not destructive cynicism! I love you all!

ShreddingRibbons


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